The pictures didn’t exactly reflect the level of disgusting that wrapped itself around the house like a thick winter coat on a chubby 4-year old.

Turns out people who rent their homes for money don’t use the word "filthy" or the phrase "should be condemened" when they are trying to make a buck.

I should have realized we had a problem when cockroaches met us at the front door. And they were on their way out.

The look on my wife’s face as she was sentenced… I mean walked in to this rental property was disturbing. She looked like a teenage girl in a horror movie when the phone rings and the call is coming from inside the house.

She was scared. And rightfully so.

The highlights were as follows: old food in the refrigerator, a mysterious hair attached to the TV remote, enough trash hidden under the raised cabinets to start your own dump, and a cat in the corner of the bedroom.

Actually, it wasn’t a cat.

It was a dust bunny in the shape of a 47 pound cat. I swear it growled at me when I reached down to pet it.

I was afraid to turn on the lights. Not because I didn’t want to see more dirt, but because I was frightened to touch the light switch. There was a layer of something on it that reminded me of a petri dish.

I could go on and on, but it gives me the willies and I feel like I need to save part of this story for my therapist.

And as a favor to all of my loyal readers, I’m not even going to tell you my theory on the mystery hair.

My wife tried in vain to find a hotel room for us to stay in, but they were all booked. Turns out Priceline and William Shatner couldn’t save me on this night.

So I went with Plan B.

I slept in my clothes.

I did survive the night, but then I had to use the restroom and shower.

Honestly, in my 44 years on this Earth, I don’t recall feeling dirtier after a shower than before. And I grew up in an era where you showered after high school PE.

Something positive did come out of this experience (besides the partial refund).

I have a whole new respect for my wife’s fear of portapotties (she can’t be the only one who would rather explode than take one step into these plastic boxes of infection).

Actually, now that I think about it, I would have been better off sleeping in a portapotty.

3 Responses to “Let Me Tell You a Little Story About the Grossest Hotel Room Ever.”

Ha ha ha – cool story. Bet all your loyal readers can come up with similar horrendous experiences. Mine involved a return trip earlier this year with my wife to the Hotel we honeymooned in 28 years ago, and no one had cleaned up or repaired anything in 28 years as it turned out. We toughed it out (it was a great price on the interweb and I thought it might be cool to return yada yada yada).

Off to China at the end of the month. Want me to find some non sweaty underpants in the world’s biggest gentlemen’s outfitters while I’m there?

I think you need to email a link to this post to the “gentleman” who rented that fine “property” to you. (With pictures of the corners. Ewwwww….) I am sure he would laugh, too! And it might save future guests from the agony you had to endure. Yikes!

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While this site operates with the knowledge and awareness of the Tuscola CUSD #301 School Board, Tuscola, Illinois, the content and opinions posted here may or may not represent their views personally or collectively, nor does it attempt to represent the official viewpoint of Tuscola CUSD #301 administrators or employees.